1.

The year 301 After Dissolution. Spring.

Peter Savaren stood up. It was time.
The meditation and the herbs had been the final part of mental preparation largely centred
around erasing fear and doubt about the change, the sacrifice, the battle that lay ahead.
So he took the latch off the door and opened it into the hallway with a calm and focused
heart. He left the little room he had used as a meditation room and entered the Nests winding
hallways.
The tunnel system was the covens haven. Here up in the mountain looming over Mooncape
they had performed their rituals and experiments away from the eyes of the world. Here he and his
brothers and sisters had unearthed the wisdom that had been lost over the centuries. Now their
efforts would be put to the test.
This was a dangerous move. The ceremony had not been successful for generations. That
knowledge had been lost in the internal strife that had plagued their secret society for so long and
enabled their enemies to keep them down. But for no longer. He felt as much in his soul and bones.
He was ready to take on the role the Brotherhood of the Pit needed. It was his duty and his right.
Peter heard the buzz of the ceremony and though he couldnt make out the words he felt
their power in the air. He had been taught as much since his earliest years, as was any descendant of
Zakari Manso and the order he had founded. A great power had been summoned out beneath the
night sky and the only component missing was himself.
He arrived at the steps to the surface and took them with a slow, even pace. He knew that
when he went back he would not be the same, perhaps even unrecognisable, but he had purged fear,
doubt and excitement from his mind. So upon seeing the site of the ceremony he felt only focus and
determination.
His brethren and servants stood in a semicircle on the mountains peak, surrounded by
braziers which kept them warm in the night air and illuminated the runic circle. It had been drawn
on marble flagstones that had been arranged with great precision where Tovar Savaren had died.
Peters father had fallen while trying to seize power and uplift the coven a year earlier with
the same mindset as so many of his predecessors. It had been a great loss to the coven and Peter
himself, but if he had lived this ceremony would most likely not have taken place nor would what it
was meant to achieve. It was time to abandon methods and ideologies that had held the heirs of
Zakari back and wield the same power as that great sorcerer.
The night was cold, but in spite of being buck naked Peter didnt feel it. This was a moment
of the mind, not the body.
His brethren were all hidden by their ceremonial hoods, becoming an unrecognisable crowd
instead of individuals. In unison they chanted words mankind had not created, like one voice
coming from many throats. His servants rode the stream of words they had practised incessantly for
months. They were as one as the demonic song rang through the air and weakened the divide
between worlds. It was almost as if the words worked through them rather being spoken by them.
Peter made eye contact with no-one but saw that they were not too entranced to notice him.
He himself focused on the circle drawn on the stones. It was a multi-layered work of art, power
bound on the earth as runes, symbols and lines. Much of the covens preparation had gone into
perfecting the circle. No still living man had drawn such a thing, after all. Every single line had to
be utterly precise to control and bind the entities which now observed them from beyond the divide.
Peter stepped inside the ring and knelt in the middle of it. His brethren began to chant faster
and the words almost became a drumming. The sounds and power in the air were intertwined and
began to join with all of his senses. His heart beat in rhythm with the spell and the entities brushed
up against Peters mind.
He picked up the small, sharp knife that had awaited him within the circle and added his
own words to the choir as he drew the blade along his left cheek. The blood leaked slowly down

along his neck and joined with the runes that had been drawn onto his body.
The choirs song turned into maddened screams and the entities flocked to Peter as he sang
the final words of the spell.
They wanted to drown him, invade his soul and destroy everything in their path. But the
signs on his body and the choir forced them to comply. He received them as they demanded, but
with conditions and enough willpower to demand them.
The entities joined with him and for a moment, or an eternity, Peter knew truth and horror
and power and secrets barred from flesh. He burned with pain, the like of which he had never
imagined, but didnt know whether it was his body suffering or something else, nor whether he
screamed or the entities did.
The men of the Brotherhood finished the song and spoke in unison.
On crossroads the flesh will be sacrificed. On a field of battle and a place of power the
dragon will burn as a man and rise again in great power. Hail to the dragon in the shape of
man.
They watched the body inside the circle fall down on all fours. All were silent. The
ceremony was concluded and the power in the air began fading away. It only remained to see the
results.
Lars pulled the hood off his head. He was not known for letting emotions get the better of
him. He was the cold knife and the loyal guard dog who had served Tovar Savaren loyally and
skilfully and now served his son. So he was rather surprised to feel his knees shake as his master
looked up.
For the ceremony had been a success. What remained was neither Peter nor the entities. And
what came next would mark a turning point.
-------------------The year 301 After Dissolution. Fall.
Hunger Isle was well named. It was little more than a pile of dirt that had managed to break the
surface of the Inner Sea but then given up and settled. It was flat and exposed to winds and little
grew on it other than hardy grasses and other inedible plants. There was no fresh water to be had
and the isle generally served no purpose other than to beach the occasional ship.
Consequently it made for a fine meeting place.
Kolgrimur looked over the isle as he stood in the ships stem while his men rowed the final
metres. Hiding an ambush there would be a challenge under any circumstances and he was quite
sure it would be impossible now, given the crowd standing in a few separate groups on the middle
of the isle.
Not that he had been worried. The Brotherhood had not lived up to its name in a long time,
but some customs were always to be honoured and the peace circle was one of those. Kolgrimur
looked at the circle in his grip. It had been woven from wicker and a single sunflower and had been
delivered to him along with a call to a major meeting.
No man worthy of the word didnt accept such an invitation, if only to know what was going
on.
He counted the ships that had been dragged into the sand and squinted at the groups. All the
coven leaders around the Inner Sea seemed to be in attendance. Kolgrimur himself was last, then,
and the meeting could begin without delay.
The ship slid up on the beach and Kolgrimurs men leapt overboard and dragged it far
enough for it to stay there. Kolgrimur stepped ashore with the circle in his hand.
Be at the ready, he said softly and approached the crowd.
His coming had been overlooked by no-one and all eyes were on Kolgrimur as he headed to
the middle of Hunger Isle trailed by his men and carefully looked over the situation and individuals
and their weapons.

No-one approached him but Anders did turn to face him and nod.
Good day, brothers, Kolgrimur said formally and inclined his head to the men who were
his rivals and equals, enemies and kinfolk.
Good day, Kolgrimur, Anders said a bit dryly and the others repeated the words. He was
thin, well-dressed and had perfectly straight grey hair that matched his eyes.
Your cousins fate is on every lip, said Boler, a short, stocky man with greying hair and a
beard, and premeaturely aged skin. Our condolences. Bolers face and voice did not match the
spirit of the words but then he wasnt known for displaying his feelings.
Kolgrimur positioned himself with his hands behind his back.
Arvar chose to abandon my guidance and fumble for power, he said in his dark voice. He
fell victim to his carelessness.
Carelessness is not the problem around the Inner Sea these days, Kohler said gloomily. All
knew what the beefy, blond man was referring to.
Are you quite sure of that, brother? Kolgrimur replied.
Someone clapped hard three times, as a sign to pay attention. Kolgrimur looked towards the
sound and saw Lars, the Savaren familys loyal killer. He was bald, with deep-set, stinging eyes and
a face that seemed specifically designed for causing unease.
The killers coven brethren were up to something behind him. The meeting clearly had
begun.
Welcome, Lars said in his harsh voice. My master Peter Savaren has called you all to this
meeting to discuss important matters.
Ones instincts were to watch the speaker, but Kolgrimur looked past him and saw the
Mooncape men part for someone walking through the group.
And where is the young master? Anders asked.
Lars stepped aside and a person walked out of the group. No one spoke but Kolgrimur heard
a few muffled gasps.
The man wore a white robe with golden edges and a hood that cast the face into shadow. Old
symbols Kolgrimur had only ever seen in books were sewn on the sleeves and shoulders. The
garment was wide enough to swallow the man and turn him into a vague image of power instead of
a person. This was the robe of the dragon. The symbol of the highest leader.
Kolgrimur could not see his eyes behind the hood but still felt a shiver pass through himself
and guessed it had been due to Peters gaze.
Renor, who could never stay silent for long, was the first to speak.
You certainly are presumptuous, young man! he said sternly.
Yes, Kohler said now that he wasnt the first. By what right do you wear that garment?
The other leaders did not address the robed man directly but Kolgrimur heard whispers
among their subordinates.
Peter Savaren took his hands out of the sleeves and threw his hood back. All fell silent.
The face was pale, narrow, with a thin nose and crowned with short, black hair. The eyes sat
deep in the skull and were so brown as to be almost black. They had always been that way but still
there was something different about them. They held a terrible power. Anyone raised to sorcery
could see as much, but Kolgrimur had never felt such an aura from a human being. He immediately
knew something enormous was going on and began to go over the possibilities and their
consequences in his head.
Peter let his dark gaze fall upon every leader one after the other and Kolgrimur saw each one
stiffen. He steeled himself as the boy turned his way.
Finally he finished the semicircle and put the hood back up.
I am the dragon clad in flesh, he said in a dark voice that Kolgrimur felt carried strangely
out of the hoods shadow. I am the rightful leader of the Brotherhood of the Pit and the heir of
Zakari Manso. And I have come here to receive oaths of loyalty.
Silence reigned for a few moments.
How... how can that be? Anders asked upon regaining his voice.

We all know our forebears concealed many things in the old pages, Peter said. They hid
their power and knowledge in riddles, which the internal strife of lesser leaders then scattered. We
worked out which pages we needed and arranged for Vajan the kinless to bring them to my father to
seal their allegiance last year. He and his master Arvar, Kolgrimur again felt the hidden gaze, did
not realize what they were giving away.
The ceremony has not been performed in lifetimes, Fuller said. No one knows how to
harness that power. How can you have managed it?
We all know the mantra, Peter said without looking at Fuller. He didnt seem to be looking
in any particular direction but it was difficult to be sure. He just took a few steps ahead until he was
about the same distance from all the leaders.
We stand upon crossroads regarding the fate of the Brotherhood. I sacrificed my blood in
Mooncapes place of power, which is now a field of battle as well after my fathers death last year.
And I burned. I fulfilled all the conditions.
He raised his hands high like a funeral chanter.
It is time to cease inner conflicts! he said. It is time to end division. Conflict is natural to
men and as long as leadership is divided between many we will keep ourselves down and expose
our throats to our foes. We need to stop hiding in shadows, trying for power with craft and endless
patience. That has been tried for generations. We must snatch it with fire and steel and take our
place in the world again.
This is madness, said old Rovin, who never minced words. Even if you have dug up
some power and call yourself the dragon you have no business bringing fire down upon us. Secrecy
is what has kept us alive.
As hungry cutpurses pinching the occasional crumbs of power.
The old days are long since passed! said Jonas Tinvil, Rovins right hand. By what right
do you intend to doom us?
Kolgrimur felt something, like a piercing shriek that did not pass through his ears. The
environment dulled in colour, as if the sunlight did not reach the isle quite as it should.
The circle of peace is sacred, Jonas Tinvil, said Peters voice in Kolgrimurs ears. But it
was sent to your master, not you.
Now hold on- Rovin began but did not step closer.
Jonas Tinvil suddenly went rigid, his eyes bulged out and he gave a choked gurgle before
falling to the ground.
I am more powerful than you, Peters voice said along with that strange shrieking, and
Kolgrimur made use of the self-discipline he had nurtured for decades to neither cover his ears nor
show signs of discomfort. There is my right. It is as simple as that. It is my destiny to save the
Brotherhood and bring it to order and I will allow no further discord. Those who refuse to join me
may leave this isle, but after that the law comes into effect: The powerful survive.
The shrieking stopped and the dimness lifted. Kolgrimurs brethren stood stunned for a few
moments and looked at Peter where he stood perfectly still, until the focus moved to Jonas.
He was dead. Kolgrimur did not need to see the grief and rage in Rovins eyes as he knelt by
his servant to know that. Peter had driven the life out of Jonas Tinvil without using any kind of
connecting focus or tool. Kolgrimur knew what this meant.
Rovin stood up and turned his burning gaze on Peter, but that flame quickly went out upon
meeting that abyss. He looked away and Kolgrimur felt he saw a certain surrender.
All were silent for a while. No-one had taken the title of the dragon in living memory, and
Kolgrimur could understand why this development was a shock.
What do you intend? he asked to break the silence.
We will need to establish a centre of power, said Peter or whatever was actually speaking.
A new Vendyha. It is time for open war and open power and here, at this meeting, we have all we
need.
He pointed at Boler.
I know what kind of connections you have established up north. We will make use of them

to acquire an army. He pointed at Kohler. We will also need the mercenaries you keep in contact
with. Finally he pointed at Kolgrimur. And we will need your support and knowledge of your
territory.
I believe I see what you intend, Anders said a moment after Kolgrimur realized the
situation. It will not be easy.
Not easy, but doable, Peter said. And further victories will be easier. I will rule the
Brotherhoods new core and with your support and influence over your own territories uniting them
under a single banner will only take a few years.
Peter gave Lars a signal. The man had been handed a large gold chalice by a coven brother
as the leaders spoke and now he approached Anders.
Drink to fortune and to your loyalty.
Anders hesitated briefly but then took the chalice and sipped the wine.
Kolgrimur briefly wondered if there was any significance to the chalice being handed out by
the killer.
Boler was next and sipped without protest. And so it went. The leaders accepted the wine
and what it signified and all managed to act as if their lives did not depend on it. It stirred
Kolgrimurs pride. He belonged to a strong legacy.
He sidestepped a bit without being overt about it and so was the last one approached by
Lars.
Drink to fortune and to your loyalty, said the tall man with the cold eyes.
The wine had a sweet scent.
You intend a grand victory, Kolgrimur said to Peter without accepting the chalice. It
would certainly prove that you are worthy of the title.
The darkness of the hood turned towards Kolgrimur.
You have power, that much is obvious, he continued, but the worlds strongest man is not
necessarily the best general.
So you do not intend to work with us?
Kolgrimur heard his men fidget a bit behind him and saw all the other coven leaders
watching him. Anders shook his head at him almost imperceptibly.
No, I will work with you, he said. I give my blessing for operations in my territory and
you will have all the guidance you need. But I feel it premature to form bonds.
I already said we need unity, Peter said and the voice gave nothing away.
Yes. So let us establish it, Kolgrimur said. Let us lay the foundations for a new Vendyha
and call all offshoots of the Brotherhood to it. But I will not swear to just anyone.
Kolgrimur thought he heard an echo of the strange squealing from before.
I am the dragon, Peter said darkly.
The dragon himself was a great and cunning leader, Kolgrimur said. Prove that you are
his true heir.
Very well, the darkness said. I will decide after the victory whether you get to join us or
not. It will depend on your conduct in the coming weeks.
It will be to expectations, I can assure you, Kolgrimur said calmly. And I even know how
we can strike a direct blow to our enemies during this mission.
Speaking of enemies, what are we to do about the Redcloaks? Kohler asked. We know
there are at least two around the Inner Sea. Should we not seek them out before launching a major
operation?
The chatter that followed the question largely agreed with him.
There is no need, Peter said. They will come to us. They will be drawn to the flame like
moths. And this time they will burn.

2.
The time had come to say farewell.
Katja remembered as much the moment she opened her eyes. Today they would leave the
homestead that had sheltered them for a year and venture somewhere new.
She swung her feet out of the bed she had been allocated on Marons homestead and rose
hastily. She rubbed her brown, almond-shaped eyes and put on her clothes, which were comfortable
but specifically designed for not drawing attention.
Serdra had already risen. Perhaps she had wanted one final private conversation with Maron.
They were old comrades after all and the man was elderly. It was doubtful they would ever meet
again.
At least I got to sleep a bit longer, Katja thought, and put on the belt with her knife and
sword. Never disarm, never leave yourself vulnerable, was one of the rules Serdra had emphasised.
Next she put her raven-black hair in a bun so it wouldnt interfere with her vision and an
enemy could not grab it.
She pushed up and down on the balls of her feet and then shifted weight between the legs as
she often did before physical exertion.
They had packed their luggage the evening before and been quick about it, since the
Redcloak life did not allow for many possessions nor promise comfort. Another thing Serdra had
emphasised was not to treasure worldly objects. She may have to flee or attack without warning and
so everything that mattered had to be within reach at all times.
Aside from the dining knife that had been her parting present from home, the only
possessions she cared greatly about were around her neck. Katja touched them for a moment.
Well.
She exited the room and met Atli, Marons grandson and the man who would one day hold
his leadership role.
Good day, she said.
Good day, he replied and they walked to the dining room together. The time has come.
Yes, indeed, Katja said. A new place and new people.
Having you two here has been rather educational, Atli said. It has taught me several
things.
We are rather exciting, I wont deny it, Katja answered with a smile.
They entered the dining room.
Serdra and Maron were among the few already at the table as Freyja readied breakfast with
the help of her daughter. Katja glanced at her mentor before taking her customary seat for the last
time.
Serdra was a bit taller than Katja, wore similarly unremarkable clothes and also always a
sword and a knife on her hips. Her hair was brown with white stripes, kept in a stiff ponytail. It was
strange to see white in the hair of a person who looked about twenty years old, but peoples
attention was always drawn to her eyes. The woman was one hundred and thirty three and somehow
one could just tell. Katja had taken a while to get used to that deep, intense gaze, and to how her
demeanour was just generally rather off.
Good day, the woman said with the same calm, slightly distant voice she almost always
used. She had had plenty of time to master her emotions.
Hello everyone, Katja said.
The residents, mostly Marons descendants and their spouses, arrived at the table in short
order and Freyja announced breakfast. With that began this daily morning ritual distinctive of
families. People chatted, joked, discussed chores and just generally enjoyed one anothers presence.
Katja still thought there was less energy on display than usual.
She supposed there was always a certain tension at changes, be they good, bad or neither.
This homestead had been something of a nest for the last year as Serdra continued Katjas
training and taught her to use the gifts of the Redcloaks, but she needed to learn more than different

fighting methods. She also had to establish connections with the Shades, this secret society of
mortals who had been their most valuable allies for centuries. And though the homestead, or rather
Maron himself, was the heart of the Shade order around the Inner Sea, she also had to get to know
the other groups. There was no telling where she may have to seek help one day. She might end up
taking refuge with the grandchildren of Marons little grandchildren.
Katja shook her head. She herself was turning a mere eighteen and had a hard time getting
her head around the immortality she had apparently been born with.
They finished eating and then there was nothing to wait for. Katja, Serdra and the Shades
walked out beneath the sky and to the path that would take them to Amerstan City.
They wore leather, which could take wear and would hopefully provide some minimal
protection from surprise attacks. They each carried a bag with a handful of belongings and put
travelling cloaks over themselves to make the swords less visible. Carrying weapons was not illegal
but still always drew a certain amount of attention. Finally Serdra pulled a hood over her head to
hide that strange white and brown hair of hers.
They walked a few steps away from the group and looked back at it. Katja had been too
excited lately to think much of the separation, but now felt how much she would miss these people
who had been something of a family to her during a period of adjustment. A family that knew and
understood what she was and appreciated it, unlike her blood kin.
She looked at Freyja, who had ably served as matron after the death of her mother-in-law;
Anton and Kjartan who were the familys main warriors and so Katjas primary sparring partners
when Serdra wasnt beating her up and down; the children who would be the next generation of
Shades and carry the tradition into the centurys second half. They would no doubt tell their
descendants tales of what it was like to have two Redcloaks as guests.
She had formed a relationship of some kind with every single person. And now it was at an
end.
Honoured guests, Maron said formally with his deep and commanding voice. It has been
my honour to shelter you. I bid farewell on behalf of my family and group and invite you back on
behalf of my descendants.
My thanks for you hospitality, Serdra said in a similar fashion. May we always stand
together against the threats to the world of Man.
With secrecy and patience, Maron said.
With secrecy and patience, Serdra repeated.
Thank you all, Katja said and looked the people over again.
The formality was done with and everyone said farewell. Katja nodded and looked each one
in the eyes. Her only actual friend no longer lived here and she was satisfied with bundling her
farewells into one.
Goodbye Serdra, Maron said with a warmth Katja rarely saw from him and looked Serdra
in the face. Unlike most, doing so did not bother him.
Goodbye Maron, the woman answered with a slightly different voice than before.
And that was it. They had known one another for more than forty years but Katja suspected
they had had their proper farewells in private.
They headed along the path and Billi, one of the homesteads little boys, played a travelling
tune on his flute. The lad was rather good for his age. Perhaps she could ask him to repeat it after a
few decades.
She looked back before the homestead and its residents vanished from sight. She might very
well never see this place again. They were all still lined up but a certain relaxation had set in the
group. Life was about to return to normal.
Katja looked away, both happy and sad. A certain chapter in her life was over.
Well, she said out loud and sighed slightly.
Yes, Serdra said.
The woman added nothing further and Katja couldnt think of anything profound. So she
began to whistle and hum the tune little Billi had played before she could forget the rhythm. She

had always been a good singer and people commended her pure voice. Their only company was
birdsong, distant mooing and their own footsteps. She managed to set her mind somewhat adrift in
quiet singing and glide on the notes.
Out of nowhere, Serdra swung her fist at her. Katja reacted and dodged the blow. Serdra
struck again and Katja blocked with her arm and then retaliated. The woman dodged and Katja
struck a defensive pose with her fists held up, warmed up and ready.
Serdra relaxed and lowered her hands as a sign this test was over. Her blows used to connect
every single time.
Pretty good, Serdra said.
Dont you mean very good? Katja asked and smirked. She relaxed herself. This was a
routine event.
Landing a hit on me would have been very good, Serdra said to take the air out of her
student. You havent reached that stage yet.
I will take you down someday, old woman, Katja said and they continued. I swore as
much and I stand by it.
Well, in that event I would certainly be proud of my mentoring skills, Serdra replied and
Katja saw a hint of a smile on her lips.
Inside she was rather irritated at her mentor for interrupting the peace, but Serdra constantly
impressed on her that death could come for her at any moment. Many things contributed to a long
life as a Redcloak and one of those was being ever on guard.
The fire the incident had lit in her blood gradually cooled and she soon began to whistle
again. Katja enjoyed it and suspected Serdra did as well.
The walk to the city was uneventful. She had traversed this route often enough to be
unimpressed and Serdra kept reminding her to observe her surroundings rather admire them.
Fields and villages and famed locations passed by and in time they entered the gates of
Amerstans capital, heading the harbour.
Katja did the talking, asking around for Raon Jom, and was directed to one of the taverns
lining the harbour area. It was easy to find and they stepped into air thick with hops and people.
They looked around until Serdra spotted the profile of a man fitting the description. He saw them a
moment before they came upon him and turned in his seat.
Good day, Katja said to the short, weather-beaten seaman with the messy hair.
Good day, ladies, he said, slightly slurred and gave them a brief examination. I believe
we have some business.
Indeed, Katja said and discreetly handed over a purse. It came from Maron, as did this
meeting.
We are ready to leave now, Serdra said, and her demeanour knocked Raon slightly offkilter now that his attention focused on her. There was a reason Katja usually spoke for them.
Yes, well, the man muttered and peeked into the purse in his lap. He cleared his throat.
Will I need to answer difficult questions due to having ferried you?
No, Katja said, but hesitated before opening her mouth. They had paid for passage before
and it hadnt turned out well.
Still, the seaman was either too drunk or too greedy to care much about the reply, since he
stood up and slammed his hat on.
Well, I am ready myself. Let us be off.
He went ahead of them to the harbour with a slightly wobbling gait and led them to a boat
where three men were passing the time with dice.
Cast off boys! Raon Jom said with the force of a drinker. Our cargo has arrived.
They boarded, introduced themselves with false names and sat down while the men steered
out of the city harbour and onto the Inner Sea itself.
Katja had never seen the city from this side and turned so she could see the walls fade away.
She whistled a short part of the song before looking away and preparing for the journey.
It is said the ocean brings all news, Katja said to the man closest to her once they were on

an even course and there was little for the sailors to do for now.
News and seaweed, yes, said the blond, bearded man.
Have you heard anything about this war chatter up north? Anything more than one hears in
Amerstan?
Eh, the man said. What does one know? They say old Hrolfur is on his deathbed and
there is disagreement about who will take over leadership of Pine City. King Valdimar thinks he has
a right to it, but the city folk want nothing to do with that northern bastard.
Katja nodded. This all matched what she had been hearing.
But is it really heading for a war? Does Valdimar mean to make good on it?
Do men of power ever miss an opportunity to flex their muscles? the man said
contemptuously.
I am unconcerned with posturing.
The man snorted.
No, but rulers posture using human lives. They roll rocks and before you know it a
landslide has started, beyond anyones control. You can bet your shoes that the first rocks are
already rolling. There have been whispers of military build-up to the north all summer and you can
bet your shoes that a man of power will put such a thing into effect. We will have another war soon.
Bet your shoes.
I will bet my shoes, Katja said somewhat dryly. The man was clearly fond of the phrase.
She looked out at the ocean and, lacking encouragement, the man did not continue his
ranting.
The Shade group that had offered them shelter lived in Pine Citys domain. Granted, from
what she understood a northern army would need to swerve considerably to the south plunder that
area on their way to the city, but Katja had a different concern.
Linda was one of Marons grandchildren and Katjas age. She was beautiful, intelligent,
warm and ladylike and the two of them had formed strong bonds for the last year. It had been
painful to see her leave this summer to marry another Shade and so strengthen the secret orders
web of connections. Painful, but unavoidable. That was just the nature of this life.
The problem was that Lindas husband lived in Pine City.
Katja closed her eyes and thought of the good times with Linda. Normal, calm moments of
home and simple friendship which werent Katjas fate but she had still been allowed to enjoy for
some time. They had very little in common but that had turned out to be of no consequence.
She hoped nothing would come of this war and that the dispute was merely mud-slinging on
a large scale. But the northern noble families, the descendants of Torgeir Stonefoot, were infamous
for constant warfare and struggles for power and Pine City would be a fine acquisition for a
competitor in that nonsense. The surrounding farmlands were especially bountiful, the harbour was
much used and the city controlled an important route. It and Farnar City were the most important
connections between the north and the Inner Sea.
Katja tried to convince herself on what the gossip had usually agreed upon: Valdimar wanted
a city, not a smoking ruin. He would gain little by slaughtering the citizens if his army took the city.
Lindas husband was not of importance to non-Shades and would not have to go down along with
Pine Citys leadership.
But not too long ago a northern army had gone mad after a trying battle and gone berserk on
the streets of a city in defiance of their orders. The Red Day, it was called, and was fresh in peoples
memories as a great atrocity.
Flee to the countryside, Linda, Katja thought and looked north. Flee to the Shades and wait
for the storm to pass.
She occasionally looked at Serdra but if the older Redcloak glanced at her in turn it was only
when Katja was looking elsewhere.
The woman usually said little that did not relate to Katjas training to some degree.
Nevertheless, Katja felt she had been unusually silent lately. Figuring out Serdras feelings was very
difficult, both because of how little they showed on the outside and because of Katjas doubts that

they were even comparable to other peoples.

Just what is it like to reach that age? she thought yet again and observed her mentor as she
stared out at the sea without really seeing it. To live with violence and constant danger? Knowing
she could die tomorrow or in a hundred and thirty-three years more? Mustnt it be like dangling in
mid-air?
They couldnt discuss their matters around strangers, there was nothing to do on board the
ship and the men generally werent chatty. So time crawled by and thoughts and worries had room
to gnaw her until evening and until morning as the waves made sleep difficult.
Maron had told Raon Jom that they wanted to land by the coastal village Gunevel, but they
corrected him in the morning. They wanted to land north of it. Raon protested briefly, stating that
there was nothing there, but it made little difference to him what became of them after leaving his
ship. He changed course slightly with minor grumbling about indecisive people.
The coast of the Golden Plain replaced the endless sea and Katja again felt the excitement of
seeing a new place. She wanted to say something sarcastic about this particular plain being
unusually uneven and forested, but she supposed it was difficult to come up with a name that
described every corner of a country and the Golden Plain had expanded since the naming.
It took the sailors some time to find a part of the coast they were willing to approach and
Katja and Serdra then had to leap into water up to the waist.
You two are crazy! Raon said as they rowed away and they waded to shore.
Katja would rather have skipped the sea salt but still found it a good way to freshen up after
the immobility on board the ship.
They walked onto dry land to be greeted by a wild, old forest that had grown over an ancient
landslide. Serdra found a good tree for climbing and peeked above the treetops, so she could use a
certain mountain as a landmark.
The excitement that had bubbled within Katja during the journey took on a different life,
now that she could actually move and their destination and all that came with it were near.
Because spread around the world were certain places who were far away from normal traffic
and entirely unremarkable, except that with the right codeword those places became the meeting
place for all Redcloaks who heard it. On the rare occasions that her people came together news was
exchanged, young ones introduced and long-term plans made for the struggle against the darkness
harrying this world.
This springs events had certainly been newsworthy to the few who knew of them and would
probably require certain changes. Serdra had therefore sent out a message and here, in this halfforgotten forest, the meeting would take place.
It was time for Katja to get to know the family a bit. The visit to the Shades would come
afterwards.
She hopped lightly in place while Serdra climbed back down. She was excited to head on,
even if only to release her nervous energy somehow.
Serdra watched her and it suddenly occurred to Katja that perhaps her silence for the last
few days was her version of tension before this meeting.
Is there something in my face? Katja asked and smirked.
Stress, Serdra said, and headed into the forest. Katja ran after her.
Not stress! Just excitement!
She caught up with Serdra and they walked side-by-side through wild, difficult foliage.
What about you? she asked somewhat more seriously. What goes through the mind of an
old warhorse at such a reunion? Are you excited to meet... kinfolk?
It is always useful to meet one of our people, the woman replied and looked straight
ahead. We usually work fairly independently but it is still good to coordinate with others about
who should guard which territories and hear how thing go in other parts of the world.
So upon graduation I must travel according to the wishes of the old timers?
There are no penalties for defying the will of the elders, Serdra said. We need everyone,
even malcontents. But the elders... Serdra looked skywards and was silent for a few moments.

They have experienced centuries of battle and learned from those who experienced the centuries
before them. They have overview over the eternal conflict itself.
Serdra looked at her and Katja saw that she was to pay heed to her mentors next words.
Keep in mind Katja, that to the older ones the Silent War, this secret conflict we have
waged since the fall of Jukiala, is merely a chapter. I have experienced nothing else but perhaps one
day I will, if I live long enough. The framework changes over the ages but the core always remains
the same.
I... understand, Katja said, though she didnt really trust herself to process all of this.
You must be able to think independently, but do still mind the words of the elders before
you go against their instructions.
Katja kept quiet as they clambered over several dead trees and the silence stretched. She
couldnt think of anything to add and began to think Serdra had finished.
I am joining those ranks, Katja, she then said and stroked her white and brown hair.
A Redcloaks only sign of ageing was the white colour that began to come into the hair after
the first century. Serdra had said her own hair would probably turn completely white after about
twenty years.
Gradually, yes, Katja said. Are you going to invite me to the feast when the last brown
hairs vanish? Isnt there some celebration, once you get to take part in decisions?
It is not about colour, but wisdom, Serdra said.
And how does one prove ones wisdom?
Training a youngster well is always a good ratification.
Katja stopped.
Oh, she said. Are you going to tell me to show the oldies what I can do?
No Katja, Serdra said and looked at her with rare emotion in her eyes. My skills as a
teacher will tell by whether you survive the coming years.
-------------------Vajan stared at his target and wiggled the fingers of his right hand. Then he darted them quickly into
his left sleeve, pulled out the knife and threw it.
The weapon flew five meters and sank into the neck of the wicker dummy with a crack
noise.
He walked to the dummy, yanked out the knife and carefully slid it into the sheath hidden
under the wide sleeve. Then he took ten steps backwards and threw again.
The knife sank into the neck. Crack.
Vajan fetched the knife and threw again while picturing his enemys face.
Crack.
Threw again.
Crack.
He fetched the knife and put it in the sleeve but fumbled a bit with pulling it back out. He
did not allow himself agitation over it. Once the true moment arrived he would only have one
chance. He could not afford to lose himself to irritation or have mercy on himself. Certainly he was
exhausted after todays exercises, sweaty and with his hand hurting terribly. But he would be shown
no mercy.
Vajan looked at the back of his own hand. The scar after the stabbing was still red and ugly.
He had woven the man-sized dummy himself to regain strength in his fingers. It had been a slow,
painful and clumsy task a real weaver would have shook his head over. But the proportions were
accurate and the dummy still hung together after uncountable stabs. That was all that mattered.
He faced the dummy. He had not painted or decorated the head like some. He didnt need to.
He saw the face as clear as daylight.
No mercy.
He gathered his strength and threw again.

Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
The pain intensified and his body resisted ever more but he had taught himself a warriors
discipline and continued with total focus. Nonetheless he noticed the approaching footsteps, to his
considerable pride.
These days he was mostly left alone in the clearing he had made his shrine. He knew what
the topic had to be, aside from recognising the heavy gait.
Will it happen? he asked and fetched his knife yet again.
Yes, said Kolgrimurs booming voice.
Vajan looked about at the broad, rough-hewn, dark-haired man who was his leader these
days.
The whole process has been activated, the man continued. Our allies are either moving or
awaiting the right moment. And I have all I need to achieve the side task.
Including a man to lead it, Vajan said and met his gaze intensely.
Are you quite sure of that? Kolgrimur asked calmly and stared back.
I am the most qualified, Vajan answered. I know the area and I have the skills. You need
me.
Vajan knew he was skirting direct challenge. There were after all arguments about whether
the coven wanted anything to do with him these days.
You have the skills and the knowledge, true enough, but do you have the nerves? You are
not the man you were.
Vajan was silent. There was a certain truth to Kolgrimurs words. His reflection now had
previously unknown bags under the eyes, a rigid stare and a severe cast. The hair had not reached its
previous length after the doctor had shaved it to treat the cut on the back of his head. And the body
itself had shed the last soft lines and was now so stiff and chiselled as to border on skinny.
No, I am not the same as before. I am more dangerous.
I have little use for a berserker.
I am not a berserker, I am focused. Vajan never broke eye contact, for emphasis of his
words.
Focused, you say? Kolgrimur said and examined the state of the dummy. Perhaps so, but
you did followed the fool Arvar.
Because he accepted me for my worth, Vajan thought.
Arvar was your cousin, he said out loud.
True, but he abandoned my guidance and tried to form his own coven in spite of lacking
the wisdom for such a task.
He had wisdom enough to try to move things forward, Vajan said and couldnt keep
emotion out of his voice, in defence of his friend.
It did not turn out so well for him, Kolgrimur stated simply.
He was murdered.
Wise men do not put themselves in a position to be murdered. Wise men do not die young.
That is the only yardstick that matters.
Vajan stayed silent. He did not trust his own words.
How is your hand? Kolgrimur asked and pointed at it.
Vajan steeled himself, wiggled his fingers and picked up three other knives he had placed on
a stump. He threw them as fast as he could, one after the other.
Kolgrimur looked at the three knives in the dummys face.
Very well. You will lead the operation. He turned and began to walk away. You will have
a chance to prove yourself.
Vajan remained in the clearing and turned back to the dummy.
I have already proven myself, he whispered.

3.
They walked. There was little more to say about the journey. The forest was so wild and difficult
that Katja usually had to focus on where and how she trod, when they werent flat-out reduced to
climbing, so there werent many opportunities for chat.
They did stop on occasion to eat from their supplies and rest briefly, but Katja used those
opportunities to familiarise herself with landmarks. She may have to traverse this route on her own
someday, after all. Perhaps even when all other now-living individuals were dead.
Well, this is certainly a good place for a secret meeting.
Katja touched the necklace she had made two years earlier. In it hung a pebble she had taken
from the grave of her cousin Maria the day she left home. They had been best friends through
childhood and Marias death really had ensured that Katja agreed to leave.
She stroked her finger up from the shirt collar and to the choker around her throat, made
from artfully braided leather strips. Linda had made it and given her as a parting present. Would
they be able to meet now that Katja was in the country? Such things had no priority whatsoever but
perhaps they would have a moment in-between dangers.
Once noon was around the corner they arrived at a narrow river Serdra said would lead them
to their destination. The forest around them was now truly old and following the river was not
always easy, but there was peace and quiet beneath the roof of leaves and there was no risk of losing
it.
Around the time she began to notice the dimming of the light she also suddenly began to
think of her first meeting with Serdra. There was some feeling, some familiarity which awaited her.
She hadnt understood the feeling then but she remembered it.
We are getting close, she said out loud and then felt like a fool for stating the obvious.
Yes.
She could glimpse people through the trees but immediately lost sight of them. She
considered calling out but refrained. They continued along the river and after a little longer they
came to rock formations where the river spewed down in a tiny waterfall.
Beneath the rocks stood two men and a woman and Katja immediately knew they were all
Redcloaks. She knew it. She felt it, almost like she felt her own limbs. The Flame burned within
them just as within her.
A man sitting on a rock was closest to her. He shared Serdras strangely ageless look but had
just gotten the first white stripes in his pale brown hair. The face was sharp and the body long. He
carried a short sword in his belt but had a long axe in his lap.
The woman leaned up against the rocks. She had thick, snow-white hair which had been
woven into thick locks that did not reach her shoulders. The face was round and pale, the lips
narrow and the eyes were the darkest Katja had ever seen. She had two different swords sheathed at
each hip and Katja guessed the glaive propped up against the rocks belonged to her.
Katja looked at the other man and immediately knew he was the oldest. She would have
known as much even though he had dyed his white hair, which went down to his shoulders. As with
the woman his demeanour and gaze was reminiscent of Serdra, except even more unnerving, if
anything.
In the middle of Amerstan City stood a marble statue of a general who had reclaimed the
city from the clutches of the Death Lords in the fourth war. The sculptor must have been a genius,
given the focused determination he had managed to imbue his creation with. The general stared
ahead with absolute, steadfast fearlessness and gave the impression of being the hardest and most
dangerous man who had ever lived.
If the statue had stepped down from the plinth and called to war Katja could imagine it
would have had this mans demeanour. This one had seen ages and Katja looked away from his gaze
and examined the rest of him.
Three horizontal scars marked his left cheek, as if hed been scratched. The wound must
have been recent, as Redcloaks healed perfectly.

All wore unremarkable clothes just like she and Serdra and seemed to have travelled a
considerable distance. Light luggage lay in a bundle between them.
The scarred one inclined his head slightly.
Greetings, Serdra, he said in a strong voice every bit as chiselled as his look.
Greetings, Roland, Katjas mentor replied. Agla and Lindor.
The oldest one looked Katja in the eyes and again she thought of her first meeting with
Serdra.
And you are Katja, youngest and most inexperienced.
Katja had never felt the truth of those words more.
But prettiest, she answered but felt her wit lacked energy.
From the corner of her eye she saw the younger man smile slightly.
I am Roland the elder, the scarred one said.
I am Agla the Black, said the pale woman with a feminine version of Rolands
inflectionless voice.
And I am Lindor of Spjata, the younger man said.
Greetings, all, Katja said. Will more be coming?
We are ever few, Roland said. We only gather for major meetings when the Death Lords
stir. We three received Serdras call and in time we will spread the subjects of this meeting to the
others.
Katja fell silent and waited for Serdra to say something more but the moments passed slowly
beneath the gazes of these people and the woman was in no damn hurry.
Is this another test?
Do you know of... the occasion? she asked hesitantly.
This springs events were related to me by our allies, Lindor said. I already told them.
You found a Death Lord, Roland said. After three centuries of searching you found the
resting place of one of them by coincidence and he sank to the bottom of the Inner Sea before you
could slay it in torpor.
Katja bit her teeth together. The Death Lords, that ancient dread that had gone into hiding
after the seventh apocalyptic war they waged against mankind and the Redcloaks, was mostly
forgotten by the general populace. Just as they wanted it. As the unity Jukiala had given the world
vanished ever further into the past, and mortals ever more considered the Death Lords a past
problem of earlier generations, the scales of the next war were ever more tipped in favour of the
monsters. But they merely slumbered, so the senses of the Redcloaks could not find them.
Katja and Serdra had been handed a unique opportunity to end one of them without it
costing a terrible war. But they had failed.
We did all we possibly could, she said and heard the defensiveness in her own voice.
The war has its fluctuations, Roland said with the same focused tonelessness. Gavin
Bloodhand originally came almost as close as you two did. But the servants of the Lord did not
manage to move him to a new hiding place and we know that as the next war begins a Death Lord
will walk on land by the Inner Sea. That knowledge will be useful to us and it is important for our
siblings to hear every detail you found out. But much else needs to be determined. You were right to
call this meeting, Serdra.
Serdra nodded.
Shall we not start with the account?
Yes.
They went over the series of events together. Katja was glad to take full part in it, but then it
mattered to get as perfect a picture as possible. The people listened without comment until they
came to the Death Lord himself.
That terrible, fateful event had only lasted a few moments but still most of the time went
into describing it and answering questions. Katja felt there really was quite little they could add to
the knowledge of this enemy but Roland and Agla both took everything in very seriously.
Lindor had the least to say but showed the most obvious interest. He was after all younger

than Serdra and so had not participated in the Death Lord wars himself.
After that we swam ashore, Serdra finally said. It was quite laborious and we simply do
not know exactly where the sarcophagus sank.
We do know that the depth in that area is too deep for any man, Katja said before Serdra
would. All the fishermen we spoke to agreed on that.
Roland was silent for a few moments and watched Katja. She found it profoundly
uncomfortable. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, or being trapped in a cage with a lion
content to sit still for the moment.
In ages past the Lords stayed awake between wars, he then said. They sat in their forts
outside the light of civilization and planned, while we strengthened Jukiala from the inside to the
best of our abilities and guarded the borders. The playing field changed with the fall of the One
Nation. This deathly torpor, this long wait, is a new trick and Gavins testimony has long been our
only information on it.
Just what did Gavin Bloodhand experience? Katja asked. Serdra had mentioned it briefly
but suddenly she wanted to hear it from a man who had been alive at the time.
Roland turned back to Serdra and Katja still didnt understand whether it was due to
disapproval or whether he was searching for something.
Initially we did not understand how the rules had changed after the Dusk War, Roland
then said. We knew they had come up with some new way to hide from us and those we could
spare looked into it. Gavin followed a rumour to an isolated mountain hamlet. It turned out to be a
stronghold and training camp for the Night Hand, as well as a lair for one of the Death Lords. Half
of them threw themselves at Gavin while the other half sped their master to safety. We believe that
since then the sarcophagi have been kept away from the servants of the Lords to prevent another
such incident, and we have modelled our search accordingly.
It turns out you were right, Katja said,
Yes.
After that they moved on to what Katja believed to be customary Redcloaks topics. They
talked about distant lands and individuals. About old problems that were either re-emerging or had
petered out once and for all. About how the power struggles of mortal men went, what effects those
might have on the Silent War and what was generally out of view of ordinary folks.
The most interesting bit of news came from the east, from the Outskirts.
I received news of Mia, the Seer, said Lindor of Spjata.
Is she still lost in visions? Serdra asked.
She evidently still sees little other than the future and its endless possibilities. And she has
made no improvements in articulating her messages.
That is a pity, Serdra said.
But she did say something along the lines that the demon that came out of the Rocky Valley
and harried Outer Fort four years ago has not been slain for good.
Outer Fort? Katja said. Isnt that a city?
The Outskirts main bastion of the old wisdom, Agla said. The fall of that city would be
fateful.
Fateful but perhaps unavoidable, Roland said. I always had doubts about the taming of
the Outskirts and half my life later it remains a half-finished task. It is too close to the Wastelands
and the final holdouts of the Vegraine tribes.
So will Mia have to tend to this herself? Agla asked Roland. I know of no-one who is
free to travel east.
Katja cleared her throat.
It is my understanding that... we are few enough and our work important enough that we
cannot afford to lose anyone.
Serdras words, stated Roland and looked at Katja and then her mentor. They are usually
true, but I still consider it debatable whether Mias exaggerated future sight is a gift or a disability.
He looked at all who were present.

Veratsa Mor was the only one to ever approach it and the madness she succumbed to cost
us dearly. Mia is still young and inexperienced and either the weakest of us or the strongest. She and
the Outskirts must manage on their own and so prove themselves. Do not abandon the core to help
her defend that land.
If I understood everything correctly she intends to tend to this her own way, Lindor said.
By seeking out and pulling on the correct strings of fate, Serdra said.
Yes. She said something about Erolas sowing his destruction with his salvation. Then she
mentioned bridges and ravens but the one I spoke to understood no more. He smiled slightly. My
mind and sight do not tread the same tracks as the Seers.
You have future sight? Katja asked with some surprise. Is that your specialty?
Indeed, Lindor said. It is up to me and a few others to peer into the future and steer our
course. The smile stayed on. I have learned to live with it. That burden strengthens the
shoulders.
For me it is the Flame itself, as with your mentor, Roland said before Katja could look his
way. I burn demons and revenants out of this world.
For me it is the present, Agla said. I am a bloodhound and a sensor. The pale woman
drew her shoulders back a bit and those black eyes were like knives. And I sense corruption, she
said severely. Something has entered the world here by the Inner Sea. Something powerful and
dangerous that has not been seen in a long time, as I have never sensed this before in my life.
She turned that sharp gaze on Lindor and did not need to say the command out loud.
A war is coming. he said and Katja saw his smile had vanished. He was silent a moment
and his eyes turned as distant as those of a dead man. I hear the stomping of legions, he said
quietly. And the din of arms and screams of the wounded. I sense no doubt. Valdimar will send an
army south.
Again Katja thought of Linda.
Few things are as unpredictable as the results of a battle, the prophet continued. But I do
sense an upset in the balance of power, and the strange phenomenon men call nations will prove its
mutability yet again.
His eyes closed.
And that is not all, he said. I sense the Divide weakening by the Inner Sea. I feel sorcery
grow more potent. The Brotherhood of the Pit is not finished for this generation.
He fell silent and since no-one else said anything Katja wasnt about to either.
I see a snake crawl out of a cooled fire, he then whispered. Severely burned but its fangs
still sharp and venom dripping from them.
Lindor opened his eyes and Katja saw they had returned to the present.
And how clear is that vision? Roland asked.
As hazy as the war, was the answer.
Roland thought for a moment.
Wars between men are of little concern to us. This one might be of use if Valdimar manages
to enlarge his realm and bring about more stability. But if the sorcerers are interfering, then
something must be done about it.
Serdra and I have bloodied them twice, all on our own, Katja said. Between the five of us
it should be easy.
Never assume an easy victory, Roland said. And certainly not against the heirs of those
who defied both Jukiala and the Death Lords. And you two will have to try to bloody them a third
time yourselves.
Why? Katja asked, surprised.
Disaster and danger is a more normal situation than many will believe, Roland said. As I
said, the war has its fluctuations. Agla and I are needed elsewhere.
Katja looked at Lindor.
I was bound north anyway when I received Serdras message, he said. While there I can
investigate Valdimars realm and see whether the Brotherhood has great influence there. I will try to

interfere with their operations from that end of things.

Then the southern end is ours, Serdra said. We are on our way to talk to the Shades of the
Golden Plain. Once the war you predicted comes, whenever that may be, we will hopefully be
informed enough to cut the right threads.
Good, Roland said. But one thing remains unaddressed: the two of you.
Yes, what about us? Katja said. We need to look into this Brotherhood business, but then
what? I am to understand I have little left to learn. What do young ones free from apprenticeship
do?
In these times they usually walk the road of wanderers, Roland said and Katja felt her
heart strike a blow of joy. Experience alone prepares one to face the ages and it is best earned
while travelling. But for that the young one must be prepared. Now show us the Flame.
Katja had been expecting this and instantly cast it forth. The red-glowing rune formed in the
air. It was the height of a man somewhat reminiscent of a stylised spider web and would repel the
unnatural.
The Sentinel Flame resided within each of them. It was a part of them and what made them
different from other people. With practice they could project that power outside the body to various
effects.
Katja had had the most trouble learning that particular art, but the springs events had
affected that like so many other things. She had finally had to use it in an emergency rather than on
Serdras orders and the experience had done her good.
She got no command to stop and understood that this was among other things a test of
endurance. Maintaining the Flame was straining, and drained her strength in a way that wasnt quite
like physical fatigue. The Sentinel Flame was a part of her life force. Overusing it could be flat-out
dangerous.
Katja held her hand out and fought to maintain the Flame while also being on guard against
sudden attacks meant to test her focus. But no attack came and she had to maintain the drain longer
and longer as Serdra had occasionally ordered her to, until the time seemed to exceed those ordeals.
It felt like she was emptying on the inside and she remembered Serdra using her own Flame
to heal a life-threatening wound Katja had received. Serdra had lent her a piece of her own life. The
feeling had probably been somewhat like this.
The memory of the fear and pain finally did it and she lost the Flame. The rune went back
inside her and Katja wobbled on her feet.
I will not fall!
She leaned forward but craned her head up and managed to keep her feet locked. The worst
of the weakness passed after a few moments but she would not regain full strength without sleep.
Very well, Roland said. Katja had almost forgotten about him.
He looked at Serdra.
Is she ready, by your assessment?
Katja focused on a tree to avoid looking anyone in the eyes.
My students learning period has been unusually eventful, Serdra said. I feel there is little
left I can teach her, at most there is need of some fine-tuning of what she already knows.
She has killed, almost died, confronted demons and revenants, seen the past and the future,
formed alliances and even faced the spirit of a Death Lord. She knows the basics of all weapons,
knows how to sneak and survive and has all the vigour to be demanded of a warrior.
Katja knew all of this, some on her own and some Serdra had stated on rare occasions. But
she had never heard herself described with such praise. Though when the three Redcloaks looked at
her she understood that this wasnt praise. Her mentor was simply stating the facts. Over a short
period Serdra had made her very dangerous.
Somehow it had snuck up on her.
All good qualities, Roland said. But are you prepared to die?
Katja was silent at first and tried to stare at him.
Ill admit I was not expecting that question.

She chuckled slightly.

It is an important one, Roland said and seemed to grow more severe, if that was even
possible. I can see Serdra has taught you to fight, though only time will tell whether she has taught
you to survive. I want to know whether she has taught you to die.
I do not believe such a thing can be taught, Serdra said. The voice was calm but Katja felt
there was a certain challenge in the way she looked at the elder.
I have worried before that you are not maturing properly, Serdra, Roland said and turned
his attention on Katjas mentor. That you are overly soft.
Now Katja laughed in earnest.
For being soft she punches very hard!
I did not say a word about her battle prowess, Roland said and turned back to Katja. But
regarding my question, you must be ready to sacrifice your life. Do not throw it away recklessly,
you are important for that. But if another opportunity rises to slay a Death Lord or achieve
something similarly important, you must be able to throw yourself on the swords and teeth of our
enemies if needed.
His appraising gaze reminded Katja very much of Serdra. Katja was silent and thought of
the moments when death had brushed up against her. She had not forgotten the fear.
Are you? she asked somewhat antagonistically.
I have lived with death in my heart since the new world was young. Yes, I am ready to die
at any moment if needed. But elders will be needed in the next war and so I preserve my life to the
best of my abilities. Now you answer.
All watched her and Katja felt her guts writhe. She could only speak the truth.
I dont know, she admitted. I suppose we will know when that moment comes.
Youth excuses many things, Roland said. But endeavour to cut your ties with this world
and this life. There is no room for such things in this war.
Katja felt a strange mixture of shame and then anger over being ashamed. It was natural to
fear death!
Serdra, she still has things to learn but you have my blessing to declare her ready. The
results will then decide the future.
I agree, Agla said.
Serdra inclined her head.
It is as I had hoped.
Silence reigned for a little while and the people looked at one another.
Does anyone have anything else to say? Roland asked.
Silence answered him.
Very well, he said. I will let changes to our plans pass along. This meeting is adjourned.
He picked up two bags that were lying on the ground.
Will you two not stay the night? Lindor asked.
No, Agla said, and picked up her own luggage. We both have a significant distance to
travel.
She finished hanging straps on herself in a way that left her with free access to all her
weapons and able to drop the bags in an instant. Then she grasped the glaive like a walking stick.
She and Roland stood side-by-side.
Secrecy and vigilance, Roland said formally. Wisdom and strength. With our eyes on the
past, future and present, that is how we will prevail. Farewell and may we all live to see the next
war.
Hear, hear, Agla said.
Lindor, Serdra and Katja bid them farewell and the pair walked into the dimness of the
forest. Aglas footsteps fell silent moments after she vanished from sight. Roland made no sound at
all.
Well, that was a new experience, Katja thought.
There go the old ones, said Lindor of Spjata and turned to the two of them.

Yes, Serdra said and Katja felt she unwound a bit.

They prepared for the night. They gathered fuel for a campfire and, having no tents, each
took their blanket from a bag and cleared rocks away from the fire, to make the night slightly more
comfortable.
Lindor and Serdra sparred briefly. Katja had never seen her mentor go up against someone
who could match her so well, but their age difference did tell in Serdra usually having the upper
hand.
Then of course it was Katjas turn and the results were more familiar, though he did
compliment her for being promising.
Finally, to Katjas great relief, they gathered together and ate of their supplies.
I never asked whether you had a last name, Lindor asked as they dined.
I decided to part with it, Katja replied. I have no use for it away from home.
Lindor shrugged and seemed somewhat amused.
Perhaps not, he said.
She is also hoping to acquire a good nickname, Serdra said.
Katja looked at her with a mixture of mirth and irritation.
And what of it?
And nothing. Just keep in mind that one doesnt necessarily have a say in what nicknames
people choose for others.
They finished the meal and Katja sang. Lindor whistled along with the tune and Serdra
tapped on a drinking mug with a twig. Their music would perhaps not have earned them a living.
but Katja found the evening rather pleasant and she even managed to forget her worries for a while.
In the morning they ate a quick breakfast and packed their belongings.
So, now we part, Lindor said.
Let us see if we can wage this battle from opposite ends, Serdra said.
Yes. As I said I mean to dig up the Brotherhoods vipers to the north. We can discuss the
results later.
He looked at Katja.
By then you will probably be fully-fledged, young sister.
If we both live, Katja said.
Lindor glanced at the ground between his feet and picked up a pebble. He threw it to Katja.
Here. Return this to me when next we meet. Then we should see one another again.
I see you are still superstitious, Serdra said and smiled slightly.
There is no harm in trying this, Katja said and smiled herself. She put the pebble in a
pocket and thought of old stories in which this custom featured.
With that the two of them headed west. To Katjas relief the walk soon became significantly
easier than it had been and she was able to enjoy it. The environment was often quite beautiful and
the sun began peeking through the leaves and cast mosaics on all before it.
Serdra was always ahead and as noon approached Katja really hadnt seen her face since
they headed out.
At first she felt the silence went well with the surroundings and that it gave her peace for
contemplation. But the time came where it was too much of a good thing, and all her mental threads
about the meeting led to the same place.
Serdra? Katja finally asked when she could contain herself no longer.
Yes?
What is going on? I feel I missed something. Between you and Roland.
Serdra stopped on top of a small mound bathed in dots of light. She did not turn around and
Katja decided to respect it by not walking up to her.
You saw what Roland is like, the woman said after a slight hesitation. He is the most
dangerous man in the world. The perfect weapon. But that is all he is. Blood and fire have cleansed
all else from him. Agla is similar. They all are, the older ones. And as I said, I am headed into that
group.

She hesitated again and Katja stared at the back of her head.
I have bid farewell to everything. All connections to my youth, all hidden hopes of a
different kind of life, all normal ties to the world of mankind. Maron was the last man I was capable
of loving. I know there will be no more, however long I may live.
Katja felt strange. Hints of Serdras emotional makeup, if it could be called that, were quite
rare. She had never really attributed her mentor with anything other than inexhaustible steadfastness
and strength.
Nothing surprises me anymore, the woman continued. I have been too far and done too
much.
And you dont want to end up like the elders, Katja said quietly.
I feel I have sacrificed enough, Serdra said. I have become what I must to defend this
world and repel the darkness. I... have never agreed with Rolands opinion that total numbness is the
right way to go. Even though... I have understood him better in later years.
Serdra looked to the sky and took a breath. Katja did not interrupt because suddenly she was
intensely interested in her mentors next words.
Is it not right and natural to have some connection to the world one defends? Serdra asked
in a whisper. Katja didnt know whether the woman was addressing her or thinking aloud. Is it not
right to care about something?
Katja looked for something to say but came up empty.
Serdra breathed in.
That is why I want to be a mentor, Katja. Being able to shape and teach and aid new ones
in finding their feet in this war, to teach someone to survive and be useful... it is very rewarding.
That... Katja swallowed but her throat was dry. That is good to hear.
Finally she turned around.
Serdra smiled. That in itself was fairly common, but seeing actual warmth in it was rarer. It
occurred to Katja that she would long remember her mentor standing in the dots of sunlight.
Most of us are constantly busy, as you heard, Serdra said. But some must tend to the
training of our young siblings as I have done for you. Since the Dusk War the number has been
three. Three of us, wandering the world, have the task of training young ones as they are found. One
of them perished in the conflict in Fornos. The seat must be filled and I want the blessing of the
elders to occupy it from now onwards.
I shall... do my best to make that happen, Katja said hesitantly.
I know.
Serdra looked at her throat.
I know you want to meet your friend Linda while we are in the country. There is no
guarantee that we will have the time to spare, but make friends all the same, even though losing
them hurts. She looked Katja in the eyes and was silent for a little while. Live, Katja.
Serdra turned and they continued the walk.